Blue Dragonfly
by tbka
Summary: WiP: Collection of drabbles .::.Ch. 15 Up!.::. It was not the fact that Kakashi was blinking that alarmed Asuma. It was the matter in which he was blinking. .::.Please R&R.::.
1. Soul

**Soul**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **K_

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **This is just going to be a story of drabbles/short one shots that I write and don't think are really long enough to be their own individual stories. Each chapter will be different and will vary characters and themes and genres and ratings, though I'm pretty sure most of them will be rated K. Will take suggestions/ideas/request from reviewers if there's any idea you want me to attempt to write (evolving any characters, but no slash)._

_Won't be updated regularly, I'll just update whenever I get an inspiration and feel like writing random shit that doesn't have anything to do with any of my other stories/one shots. Might not follow the timeline/events in my other stories or maybe it will. Doesn't really matter._

_Won't be beta'd because I'm far too lazy to get it beta'd and I don't particularly care a lot about these stories._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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Innocence is lost on the battlefield; sanity is lost during the sleepless nights full of night terrors and haunting memories. But souls, souls are cracked, broken, and finally lost in the ANBU. Few shinobi last more than three years in this job. It takes a toll on the mind; this blind, reckless murdering.

And yet I've watched this child grow up in ANBU. This mere child has lasted years longer than most adults. Well, he's not really a child anymore, his eighteenth birthday is today. He's birthday present? Kill the five shinobi who have been spying on our movements. He did it quietly, orderly, without question and without thought.

But he still hasn't gotten up; he's still kneeling next to the body of the fifth and final shinobi he killed. The body of a man who can't be more than fifteen years old. It's just the two of us here, just the two of us on this mission. I've seen a lot over the years, more than most me. But I have an uneasy feeling, a feeling that I'm about to see something I never expected.

I drop from my position in the trees and land in a crouched position. Standing up I walk quietly over to the silent teenager and kneel beside him. His mask had been broken and had fallen off during the short battle, he'll have to get a new one. I place my left hand over his right hand, the right hand that is still clutching the kunai imbedded in the child's neck.

His hand is covered in his victim's blood, still warm, and shaking underneath my hold.

"Kakashi," I whisper, careful to keep my voice low and calm, "Let's get out of here."

I turn my head, bringing my eye focus from our hands to Kakashi's face. Our eyes meet, blue to mismatched gray and red. For the first time in my life I watch as silent tears slowly creep out of those teenager's cold eyes.

His soul isn't cracked anymore, it's finally broken.

It won't be long until it's lost.


	2. Sleep

**Sleep**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **K_

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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Kakashi rarely sleeps, it's just one of those things he doesn't do, one of those things that brings back memories better left forgotten. Sometimes he'll take sleeping pills, he has a prescription for them; most current and former ANBUs do. Night terrors are not uncommon among shinobi, but the elite of the elite, the ANBUs, often end up suffering more.

It's just on of those things you learn to deal with.

Often, instead of sleeping, Kakashi will spend his time wandering the streets of Konoha, staring at the memorial stone, or reading in the quite of the Jounin conference room.

He's always alone.

Except for tonight. Tonight he's not alone because tonight he's not the only one unable to sleep. He's leaning against the sill of an open window, letting the soft wind blow inside and causing the Jounin and Chuunin conference room to drop a couple degrees, when Kurenai enters.

He doesn't startle, doesn't turn around or acknowledge her presence. He just waits, listening to the young red-eyed Chuunin as she makes coffee and pours herself a cup. She drinks it black, and if you ask Kakashi, far too strong.

She walks over to Kakashi and leans against the window sill beside him. They stand in silence for awhile, not uncomfortable enough to move and yet not comfortable enough to begin a conversation.

"Are you always here at night?" Kurenai asks, breaking the still silence.

"Not here, so to speak, but I'm around."

"Do you ever just get to the point or do you always force people to look underneath the underneath?"

He just shrugs and they fall back into the comfortable silence of companionship; Kurenai sipping her coffee and Kakashi just staring at the stars.

"Have you always had problems sleeping?" Kurenai ventures.

"Since I became a Chunnin," Kakashi replies.

Kurenai nods slowly, knowing that 'underneath the underneath' Kakashi really means to say "Since the first time I killed someone."

"How do you deal with it?"

"I don't, we never have."

"We?"

"ANBUs."

Kurenai nods, she's seen people crack under the pressures of ANBU, Kakashi included: though just recently.

"Why do you keep doing this if it only hurts you in the end?"

"Because at night I'd rather hear the screams of the ones I've killed than the screams of the people I'd fail by quitting. We're all monsters anyways, so it shouldn't really matter."

She sighs, "You're just doing your job you know."

"Yah," Kakashi whispers, a hint of guilt in his voice, "I'm just doing my job."

And with that he turns around and walks away. The door closes behind him and Kurenai sighs. She sips her coffee and watches the sun begin to rise.

For some, silence is close enough to sleep.


	3. For Konoha

**For Konoha**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **K+_

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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"We're not friends. This is for Konoha. We're not friends. This is for Konoha," I repeat this mantra under my breath as I walk the fifteen minutes from my apartment to the bar that I know Asuma will be at.

He's always at this bar after one of he's infamous incidents with Kurenai. I heard about his not-so-subtle fight with that inconsistence bitch of a Chuunin in the conference room when I was making coffee.

I also heard he has a mission tomorrow.

Fuck my anti-social behavior, fuck my asshole attitude. Asuma has a mission tomorrow and I'm acting in the interest of Konoha. That's all I'm doing. We're not friends, we can't be friends. Friends of Hatake's get murdered. If he's not my friend I won't end up responsible for his death.

I push the door open and immediately my keen nose is assaulted by the stink of cigarettes, sweat, and alcohol. I squint my visible eye, trying to let the least amount of smoke sting its sensitivity. I spot Asuma sitting in the far corner.

I sigh, thankful for my mask and the slight filtration of the air it gives me. It's not much but I'll take whatever I can get. I've never liked smoke, especially cigarette smoke; it fucks up my lungs and makes it incredible hard for me to breathe. But that's not the point right now; I'm not here to complain to myself about my far too delicate lungs.

I walk over to Asuma, put my right hand on his left shoulder, and shake him slightly.

"We're going Asuma," I state firmly, leaving no room for argument.

He doesn't move from his slumped position for a few minutes. When he finally does move it's to take another gulp of the sake he's tightly grasping in his right hand.

"Asuma," I say louder, more angrily.

"Go away Kakashi," he slurs.

"Asuma," I sigh, "You have a fucking mission tomorrow. Don't get drunk tonight; don't lead a bunch of idiotic Chuunin on a mission hung over tomorrow. You'll get someone killed."

"Why you fucking care!" Asuma yelled drunkenly, slamming his fist on the bar.

"I don't you son of a bitch!" I yell back, "But since you're always so insistent on forcing your fucking friendship on me I might as well return the favour in a way that's going to help this fucking retarded village of ours!"

Asuma just glares at me and I can feel the stares of the drunks around us but I don't particularly care.

"It's not like this is going to last long anyways," I add bitterly, "This happens about once a month. You two have a fight and than a week later you're back together."

"This time it's different, this time she's gone for good," Asuma sadly mutters.

"You say that every single time. Have you not noticed that she always comes back? Always! That Chuunin's a fucking dependent idiot, just like you. Now get off your lazy ass and go home, or else I drag you home myself!"

"Fine!" Asuma relents, sounding extremely pissed off.

He stands up, steadies himself on the bar's top, and stumbles slightly out of the bar. I watch him leave and then wait in silence for a few minutes but he doesn't come back. I turn to leave myself…

"Hey! You!"

I turn back around to face the bartender, "What?" I snap.

"You going to pay?" the bartender asks impatiently.

I sigh under my breath and reach into my pocket. I pull out some money and place it on the bar table, "This enough?" I ask.

The bartender nods, "It's a little much, just wait, I'll get your change."

I roll my visible eye, "Keep it," turn around, and walk out of that smelly bar.

I breathe in the fresh air as soon as I get outside and sigh with relief.

We're not friends. This is for Konoha. It's just for Konoha. We're not friends. We're definitely not friends.


	4. Paradise

**Paradise**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **T (Yup, upped the rating for this chapter. Go me?)._

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

**Requested by _Essyllus_****. Hope this meets your expectations!**

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Asuma sits down at the small table by the window, joining his comrade in the café on the edge of town. It's still early morning; the suns still hasn't risen fully. The streets are quiet for few people are up this early.

But Kakashi is one of the few who are up this early. And Asuma would bet his life on the fact that Kakashi's students would shit their pants if they saw him this early in the morning. For someone who is always late for every day of training not many people would think that he actually gets up this early in the morning.

To tell the truth, Asuma would probably say that Kakashi doesn't even go to sleep most nights. And the few nights he does sleep he most likely doesn't sleep for long.

Asuma orders a cup of coffee when the waitress asks him what he wants. As he waits for his drink to arrive he examines Kakashi. His almost-friend looks a little more exhausted than normal, a little more drained.

"Good chapter?" Asuma asks quietly as he turns his head and rests it on his right hand.

He stares out the window at the few people walking down the street. He watches as the wind blows a few leaves and some discarded trash around in a tiny tornado. He waits for Kakashi to reply.

"I've read the same page probably twenty times and I still can't remember what it says," Kakashi whispers in response.

Asuma turns his head to look at Kakashi, his almost-friend, and sees that he's still staring at his book. But his one visible eye isn't moving back and forth like it should be if he was actually reading what he was staring at.

An ignored cup of coffee is steaming by Kakashi's hand.

"Why did you order coffee if you knew you weren't going to drink it?" Asuma asks. Fully knowing that Kakashi was never going to respond to a direct question about is health.

"Why not take what you can get?" His almost-friend responds; still staring at, but not actually reading, his book.

"It's not like I'll be paying anyways," Kakashi continues.

Asuma quietly chuckles, knowing full well that Kakashi's correct. He always ends up paying for these little café visits that his almost-friend enjoys so much.

"Sir?" the waitress asks when she approaches the table, "Here's your coffee."

Asuma thanks the waitress and takes the offered cup of coffee and the small packages of cream. For a few silent minutes he just mixes his three packages of stale café sugar and one package of cream into his far too weak coffee. By the time he takes his first sip the coffee doesn't even taste much like coffee, just like cream and sugar.

Kakashi's still staring at that perverted book, still not reading.

And Asuma just waits in silence. Wondering what in the world Kakashi finds interesting about that book. Asuma read a couple pages of it once; it was far too graphic, far too disturbing, and far too perverted for even his tastes.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter. He puts the smoke in his mouth and goes to light it.

"There's no smoking in here," Kakashi informs him.

Asuma glares at him but relents. There isn't actually a no smoking rule in this café, and Asuma knows that. But Asuma also knows that his almost-friend gets irritated by smoke, more irritated then most. He returns his cigarette to its package in his pocket, along with his lighter, and takes another sip of his coffee.

"What's so interesting about that book anyways?"

The silver-haired Jounin doesn't reply, instead he just shifts his gaze from the pages of the book to stare into his almost-friend's eyes.

"Really Kakashi. You've been reading that book before you were even allowed to buy it. How you ever got your hands on it, I'll never know. But those books are perverted, even sadistic some times. What do you even like about them?"

"Why do you care?" Kakashi finally asks after a moment of silence. He returns his one-eyed gaze to the book.

Asuma shrugs, "Don't know. Guess I just wanted to know why. Sometimes people just like to know why Kakashi."

They fall into silence and Asuma returns his gaze to the street outside. It was getting busier, it was getting later. He was going to have to leave soon if he wanted to meet his team in time. Ten minutes go by, than ten more minutes. Asuma gets three refills on his coffee.

Kakashi still hasn't touched his.

"Trust me, you don't want to know why," Kakashi whispers, barely audible.

Asuma turns his head and returns his focus on his almost-friend.

"Oh, but I think I do. Now I'm even more interested," Asuma replies with a small smile, "Come on. It's not like there's a sick, twisted, perverted reason behind it, is there?"

"Perhaps."

Asuma just smiles and takes another sip of his coffee, "Don't tell me you're going to make me look underneath the underneath."

"I had an uncle," Kakashi suddenly says.

Asuma blinks, confusion teasing the features on his face, "So? I had an uncle too."

Silence.

"Nevermind," Kakashi mutters after a few silent minutes.

"Kakashi?" Asuma questions, letting a slight hint of worry enter his normally placid voice.

"I…it's…um…just…he…it…it doesn't matter," Kakashi stammers with a slight shake of his head.

"You stammered," Asuma points out calmly.

"So?"

"Hatake Kakashi never stammers."

"Well, there's a first for everything," Kakashi informs his almost-friend.

Silence, it stretches out for almost ten more minutes. The two sort-of-friends just staring at each other: trying to figure out what the other's plan is, trying to look underneath the underneath.

"You didn't bring up this random uncle you've never talked about before for no reason," Asuma says, breaking the not-so-comfortable silence.

"I told you already," Kakashi replies in frustration, "It doesn't matter."

Asuma sighs, "Okay, so I asked you about that perverted book and you mentioned this random uncle. So I'm going to go out on a limb and say your uncle was a pervert."

Kakashi keeps silent.

Asuma nods to himself, "So your uncle was a pervert. But what does that have to do with you?"

Kakashi closes his book and places it in the table. He rests his head on his propped up hand and stares out the window. Distractedly he spins around a spoon in his left hand. The silence stretches on.

"They say victims often become perpetrators," Kakashi murmurs.

"Victims?" Asuma question, more to himself then to anyone else, "Victims of what?"

"Pervitude."

"Is that even a word?" Asuma asks his sort-of-friend.

"Look underneath the underneath."

Asuma sighs in frustration, not the first time he's done that when speaking with Kakashi, "So your uncle was a pervert. You were a victim. A victim of his pervitude? Which, by the way, is definitely not a word."

Kakashi let's out a small sigh that almost sounds like a "Yes."

"Victims often become perpetrators, eh?" Asuma states.

"That's what they say."

"So, does that mean you're a perpetrator now? Seeing as you were a victim."

"Often Asuma, often. Not always. Definitely not always," Kakashi replies in a forceful whisper.

"So the book prevents you from become a perpetrator?" Asuma questions. Finally beginning to understand what his sort-of friend was trying to tell him, without actually telling him.

"You could say that."

"Well," Asuma begins, leaning back in his booth and crossing his arms, "I've never heard of perverted books be a method of therapy."

"What can I say?" Kakashi responds with a sad chuckle, "I'm different."

Asuma nods with a smile, "Different indeed."

He gets up, leaves a few bucks on the table, and walks out of the cozy café; leaving his silver-haired friend to his thoughts.

"Different indeed," Asuma chuckles to himself, "Kakashi, you are most certainly different."

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_**Author's Notes: **So this was not only longer then I intended but also much more darker then I intended. /Oops/ I hope everyone managed to figure out what the hell Kakashi was trying to say in regards to his uncle. If you can't then just say so in a review and I'll either make it clearer or just tell you in another Author's Note (most likely the second one)._

_Review please! And request!…I like requests. They're really fun to do._


	5. Late

**Late**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **K+_

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **This doesn't actually make much sense. /shrugs/ Just kind of came to me in Science class, when I was suppose to be doing a test. Oh well, Science sucks anyways._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

**Takes place during the time skip.**

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Kakashi walked. It's all he could remember to do.

Kakashi was tired, exhausted, fatigued. It's all he could feel.

Kakashi was late. It's all he knew.

Kakashi knew that at twenty-eight he just wasn't cut out for these sorts of missions anymore.

Kakashi was regretting letting Tsunade convince him to take this ANBU mission.

Kakashi was tired.

Kakashi knew that he was presumed dead. That tends to happen when a Shinobi is seven months and twenty-two days late from his expected return date.

Kakashi was the only one left…three others dead.

Kakashi was sure it was his fault. After all, it always was.

Kakashi knew he was going to die. He knew he lost too much blood, he knew he was burnt too badly.

Kakashi knew he had to get this scroll to Tsunade, only then could he die.

Kakashi walked.

Kakashi knew people stared.

Kakashi knew he couldn't die; Gai would win their rivalry if he did.

So…Kakashi knew he would survive.

And he did, because that's what Kakashi knew.

And no one was surprised because Kakashi is always late, even for death.


	6. Why?

**Why?**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **Warning: Character death. _

_Yet again this story doesn't make much sense. I should be doing h/w. Procrastination is fun._

_If you squint hard enough you just **/might/** be able to make this a Kaka/Gai story. Though that was definitely not my intention. /shrugs/  
_

**Please R&R…Thanks! (Really, please review/begs/)**

**Remember, I'm taking requests too. Requests on /anyone/. That means /any character/. Not just Kakashi. **

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In the end Gai would wait.

And everyone knew that, and no one understood why.

Or maybe they did. Maybe they just didn't want to admit that they understood because understanding means accepting and accepting is not always considered "right" or "correct."

Gai was not a Genius.

Kakashi was.

Together they make the perfect rivalry; the Genius vs. the Dropout.

No one knew when it started, not even the two involved could remember. It was never planned, it just sort of "happened" so to say.

As a child Gai never understood that he wasn't suppose to be able to beat Kakashi. As a child Kakashi was just another kid to him, just another road block.

Kakashi never meant for a friendship to form between them.

Some say that becoming friends was Gai's plan from the beginning, others disagree. Because in the end; who would willingly be friends with Kakashi?

No one expected them to protect each other; no one expected them to save each other. But they did, they found solace in each other's pain. Even though they were so different they were the same, in one way or another.

When Gai was going to die, when Gai couldn't protect himself, Kakashi stepped in.

Kakashi fought when his rival could not.

Though he was close to death himself Kakashi still saved Gai, because that's what Genius' do.

And no one understood why.

Or maybe they did, maybe they just didn't want to admit that they understood.

Because in the end; Kakashi died.

And Gai survived.

That was not the path their lives were supposed to take.

And no one understood why it happened that way. No one knew why Kakashi gave his life.

Because in the end; Kakashi was more valuable then Gai.

And Gai would wait.

For what, no one knew, not even Gai himself.

They buried him underneath the apple tree.

And no one knew why.

They carved his name into the Memorial Stone.

And no one knew why because Kakashi never wanted his name on the Memorial Stone.

In the end, it just seemed right.

But no one knew why, because they never knew why.

Life never explains why.

In the end, Kakashi was dead and Gai was not.

And that's all there was to it.

And no one understood. And no one cried because Kakashi does not cry, in life or death.

Or rather, no one admitted they cried. Admitting meant accepting.

And Shinobis don't accept.

But the sky cried, the sky cried for them all. And they accepted its tears, and they welcomed its tears.

Wet, cold, salty: the sky's tears hid their own.

And no one cried.

Kakashi was dead.

Gai was not.

It was not how it was suppose to be.


	7. Dragonfly

**Dragonfly**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **K_

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **I didn't say names in this story for a reason; so you guys can fill in with whoever you want!_

**Please R&R…Thanks! (Really, please review/begs/)**

**Remember, I'm taking requests too. Requests on /anyone/. That means /any character/. Not just Kakashi. **

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He decided that she was definitely a dragonfly. Yes, a dragonfly.

Dragonflies symbolize strength, beauty and independence. They fly differently than other insects, they have four wings that operate "out of phase" instead of "in phase" with each other. They're different, and they're difference doesn't just make them beautiful but also stronger than the other insects.

They live their lives in clean water full of oxygen; not dirt, mud, or contamination.

There's a reason dragonflies have lived for so long without changing much…they don't have to change because they're good at what they do. They've survived how they are.

They're fragile, yet strong and agile. They're different than the other insects yet they're also the same in so many ways.

She's beautiful as she is; strong, smart, and young. As long as she lives in this little world of hers, a world full of love, life, and beauty, she'll be fine, she'll prosper.

But she chose the life of a Shinobi without fully understanding how dirty, contaminated, and corrupted it is.

It will break her.

She's not meant to change; like the dragonfly. They're both meant to stay the same, to live in their clean and perfect worlds.

It will kill her.

And I will stand here and watch it happen…because I've never been able to stop it.


	8. Injured

**Injured**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto._

**Please R&R…Thanks! (Really, please review/begs/)**

**Remember, I'm taking requests too. Requests on /anyone/. That means /any character/. Not just Kakashi. **

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The silver-haired Jounin had fallen asleep in his chair, head resting against the wall the chair was leaning against.

He was waiting, along with the red-eyed Jounin sitting in a chair opposite him. She had also fallen asleep.

If there had been a window in the small hallway they would've noticed that the sun had risen high in the sky, they would've noticed that it was no longer night and that they had been waiting for hours.

They had both come when they were first told, when it was just barely past midnight. She had been awakened by the knock on her door; he had just arrived back from his own mission.

She was tired, so was he. She was healthy, he was injured.

He refused to leave, refused to get medical treatment until he knew whether his friend would live or die.

She had fallen asleep; he had passed out from lack of blood. The shallow wound in his stomach and the deep gash in his right thigh had been bleeding when he first came here. Now the injuries had clotted and begun to heal, but not before he had lost more blood than what is considered healthy.

She awoke first, to the sound of one of the two doors in the hallway opening up, she watched through half-lidded eyes as three young Jounins walked into the hallway, two men and one women.

"Kurenai?" the woman asked the red-eyed Jounin, "How is he?"

"I don't know Ino," she whispered in response.

"Is he okay?" the skinnier of the two males asked, pointing at the silver-haired Jounin.

A pool of blood had collected under his chair.

"He'll be fine Shikamaru," Kurenai replied, "I think."

"Is he passed out?" the same male asked.

"Looks like it," the other male responded.

The red-eyed Jounin sighed and lifted herself out of her chair. She took the few steps required to cross the hallway and stood in front of the silver-haired Jounin.

"Kakashi?" she questioned, slightly shaking his right shoulder in an attempt to wake him.

He didn't respond.

"Kakashi?" she questioned again, slightly louder, and shaking him slightly harder.

The Jounin in question coughed slightly before finally opening up his one visible eye. His breathing was ragged and his body was shaking slightly. He no longer had the strength to keep his body warm.

He was more injured than he had originally believed.

"You should get your wounds checked," the red-eyed Jounin stated.

"Has she…?" the silver-haired Jounin asked, slowly pushing himself into a more comfortable sitting position.

"No, she hasn't come out yet," Kurenai replied distractedly, "They've been in there a long time."

Almost as if on cue the other door in the small hallway opened up and out stepped the Fifth Hokage; tired, worn, and dejected.

"Kakashi, Kurenai," she addressed the two older Jounins with a nod, "Shikamaru, Chouji, Ino," she addressed the three younger Jounins with a sad smile.

The five Jounins waited in silence for the Hokage to tell them what happened, to tell them whether their friend was alive or dead.

"I'm sorry," Tsunade began, "Asuma's injuries were too severe. We tried as hard as we could but we couldn't save him."

Kurenai and Ino gasped, tears springing from their eyes. Chouji nodded in acceptance and Shikamaru made no visible response.

Kakashi sighed, combing his hand tiredly through his matted hair.

Tsunade turned her gaze to focus on Kakashi and she would swear until the day she died that she saw the Jounin's visible eye glaze over with the wetness that only comes with tears.

But he denied it for the rest of his life.

The last remaining person that the silver-haired Jounin could truly trust had finally died.

And he couldn't help but feel responsible. The mission his friend had gone on had supposed to be assigned to him, but he hadn't returned from his other mission in time.

Now his friend was dead, and it was suppose to be him.

It always ended up being his fault.


	9. Watch

**Watch**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **If you think I own Naruto then admit yourself to your local psych ward…now!_

_**Author's Notes: **Warning: Character death. _

**Please R&R…Thanks! (Really, please review/begs/)**

**Remember, I'm taking requests too. Requests on /anyone/. That means /any character/. Not just Kakashi. **

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Blood; warm, wet, sticky, red. She has seen a lot of it in her months on the frontlines.

Wars tend to involve a lot of blood; it's just one of those things. Over the months she has learnt to ignore its smell, ignore its feeling, ignore its presence.

But she can't ignore the blood this time, this tainted blood.

Red.

Sticky.

Wet.

Warm.

Flowing.

She can't ignore the blood this time because she can do nothing to stop it.

Her hands press against the wound on his chest, her chakra flows into his body.

She can feel his heartbeat slowing down, she can see death slowly take his life, she can hear his breathing become shallow and ragged.

She can't save the man who taught her about teamwork, the man who saved her life so many times, the man who gave her hope in the middle of a war when there was no hope to give.

All she can do is watch him die; watch and wait with the others.

He gave his own life to save his comrades, like he always promised he would.

"I won't let anyone on my team die." Words he spoke many times, on many missions, to many people. A promise he's rarely broken and done everything he can to hold on too.

It has always been his life line.

It was fitting, she thinks, that he will die on the battlefield. Die protecting his eternal rival.

Still, even with death inevitable and unavoidable, she pushes her chakra into his body.

His hand reaches up and grabs her arm.

"Stop," he chokes out, coughing up tainted blood, "Don't waste your chakra."

Tears sneak out of her eyes and flow down her dirty face. She tastes their saltiness when they collect at the corners of her mouth.

"I'm proud of you Sakura," he whispers, the last of his life slipping away, "Of you and Naruto. The only team I've ever passed. Make sure you tell Naruto that," his hand loosens its grip on her arm and drops back to the ground.

A smile appears on his face, the first time she's ever seen him smile with his mouth and not just his one visible eye. He had torn his mask off long ago, in the middle of the battle. He had been forced to because coughing up blood is easier when the mask is removed.

"Kakashi," A Jounin sitting beside her says.

"Mh?" the dieing Shinobi mumbles in question.

"You've served Konoha well. You've done us proud. All of us."

He chuckles, but he's cut off as he chokes on his own blood, "Thanks Genma," he mutters after coughing up more of the red, sticky, life-giving liquid.

"Tell Gai I'm sorry for losing our last, ridiculous competition. I think he was supposed to die before me."

"Don't worry eternal rival," Gai speaks up from his crouched position on the other side of his friend, his voice more subdued than normal, "You won anyways, seventy-eight to seventy-seven for you. And that's with me counting our final competition."

He chuckles again, but quieter this time, more careful of his painful wounds.

"You should have let me die," the green-clad ninja continues, grief beginning to overtake him and blood seeping out of his own, life-threatening injuries, "You're more needed in Konoha than I am."

"I won't let anyone on my team die," he replies with another sad chuckle, "That's a promise that applies even to you, Maito Gai."

He takes one more shaky breath before she feels his heart give out. A shudder passes through his body as the last of his life leaves him.

She reaches up and closes her ex-sensei's eyelids. For the first time since the silver-haired Jounin had received Obito's Sharingan eye it was deactivated. Instead of his eyelids closing on mismatched gray and red eyes they were closing on matching gray eyes. It didn't seem right to her.

Slowly, quietly, Genma unclenches the dead Jounin's hand and removes the Forbidden Scroll from his grip. The Forbidden Scroll they had been hastily sent to retrieve from the missing-nin who had managed to steal it.

They buried him underneath the apple tree and carved his name into the Memorial Stone.

Everyone asked the same questions, "Why him? Why like that? Why now?"

The Hatake clan was no more. Team Kakashi was no more.

They didn't even have time to grieve. In the middle of a war there is never time to grieve.

Konoha, the hidden village of leaves, has never been the same.


	10. Tomatoes

**Tomatoes**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **K+_

_**Disclaimer: **Naruto I not own._

_**Author's Notes: **Requested by **Essyllus**. Hope you enjoy! This turned out depressive...but I had all intentions to make it a happy/humourous drabble but it just didn't come out like that. /sigh/ I guess I'm just not cut out to write happy stuff.  
_

**Please R&R…Thanks! (Really, please review /begs/)**

**Remember…request.**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Tomatoes.

That's the thought that first came to my mind and I don't know why. Maybe because tomatoes and blood share the same red colour, maybe because it reminded me of that ridiculous D-Rank mission we had to do together all those years ago, or maybe I'm just insane.

Whatever the reason: that was my initial thought.

Tomatoes.

Isn't that odd? Out of all the things that would cross my mind at that moment it was tomatoes.

Perhaps it was because her heart felt like a tomato in my hand. Or perhaps it was because the squelching noise my arm made as I removed it from her body was the same as the squelching noise tomatoes make when you step on them.

Six years ago… six years ago I broke her love-struck heart. I find it hard to believe that it was really that long ago. Sometimes it feels like yesterday.

I'm an avenger; I strive for power and strength. Nothing more: nothing less. I'm not supposed to let trivial things like friendships and emotions get in my way.

Years ago my sensei once told me not to use the Chidori against my comrades, he told me to only use it to protect them. But she's not really my comrade anymore, not since I left all those years ago.

He'd be disappointed if he saw me now. Not that it matters to me; I haven't talked to him in years. I don't care what he thinks about me, I don't care what anyone thinks about me.

At least, that's what I tell myself everyday. It's my mantra, it's who I am. If I say it enough times I'm forced to believe it. Besides, I can't turn back now. There's no way they'll let me return anymore, not after what I've just done.

Tomatoes.

Such a weird thought; even for me.

But I know that this was just one more step, one more building block to gain the strength I need.

I broke her heart once, today I destroyed it.

I cut a lock of her pink hair to keep and I don't know why. Maybe to remind myself of what I'm capable of? Maybe to remind myself that the past is no more?

No.

I did it to preserve my sanity; I did it to keep the past alive.

Because even though I deny it everyday, there's still a small part of me that misses the old Team 7.

But I don't know why.


	11. Behind the Walls

**Behind the Walls**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **K+_

_**Disclaimer: **If I owned Naruto it wouldn't be called Naruto. It would SO be called Kakashi and it would SO not have 10 BAZILLION fillers. No sirwe…no fillers at all!_

_**Author's Notes: **None. Yah…so crushed you're hopes right there didn't I? Mwhahahaha! Okay…off to bed I go!_

**Please R&R…Thanks! (Really, please review/begs/)**

**Remember…request.**

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All around me are familiar faces; yet I can't even see them. The darkness engulfs what little sense I have. Takes it, destroys it, twists it around and mangles it, leaves it to rot upon the ground like apples never picked from the blossomed trees. The people I see everyday are the people I never see. Look in their eyes and you won't recognize them. Stare into their souls and you won't understand them. Their blood lies upon my hands, soaks into my skin. Taints my heart and won't wash clean.

Blood stains turn orange after you wash them a couple times; souls can't be washed. Their lives upon my name, they won't be here anymore. Five white caskets, some big, some small, some with contents you can't even recognize: all because of me.

Nothing will heal the hole upon my heart. I cry enough tears for them all, everyone whose blood lies by my feet. Their bodies burned, churned, darkened. Chewed and spit out by the devil himself; left in front of me, to show my weakness to all.

To show them my guilt.

I wish it never happened; that the rotten apples were picked before they fell. That time could be turned back, to hold their hearts with my hands. But instead they slipped through the cracks, the cracks of pain and hurt that crease my face and taint my soul.

The hurt that I laid upon their feet, that sits upon their souls. This world has been changed for the worse. Their voices I heard for days beyond their deaths. Behind the walls, their blood curling screams could be heard by all; can still be heard by me.

They'll never rejoice again. They'll never feel good again, not in this world, not in another. Birthdays they will never see, Christmas forgotten in terrors drowning out their minds. Draining their souls; dragging through the dirt. Their tears stain my hands.

Sit and listen, you can still hear them. But they will never see this world again. Senses lost beyond their grasps. Thoughts lost in the burning waves of red and orange that engulfed their minds at the end. That led to their very destruction.

They will be remembered, through their bodies are burnt and broken. They sit and listen to the screams around them. To the crackles and the alarms that won't let them go. A tangled mess of emotions and pain, staring into their face is God himself. Their beliefs lead them to the end; the end they know came too soon. And my end will take too long to come.

Everyone sees me but they can't see **me**, even if they think they do. My pain I hide behind the walls that hold their screams. They look at me but they only see through me. My soul is gone, I sold it to the devil but I never got anything back. I guess that's what you get for dealing with evil itself.

I find it kind of funny, how their screams I still hear. How their memories will never be forgotten but will still fade. How the apples sweet taste is cruelly destroyed when it falls, forgotten, from the blossoms of the tree. When the sickness comes and engulfs the trees and all that grows from it comes from the same tainted roots. Poison from the poison branch can't be cured.

Their blood stains my skin, their screams taint my soul, their images fade from my mind. Their voices slowly leave this world as those five caskets are lowered, one by one, into their forever resting place. Six feet under.

I'm sorry.

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_**Author's Note: **I guess it would be beneficial for you, the reader, to know that this is suppose to be about Kakashi and him reflecting on the five people closest (closes? I don't know which word to use there) to him who have died (can you guess the five?) and how he feels it's his fault. Because hey, it would be SO much harder to torture Kakashi if he DIDN'T think it was his fault, eh?_


	12. Butterfly

**Butterfly**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **K_

_**Disclaimer: **Naruto is not mine, no matter how much I pray for it to be it isn't. /cries/_

**Please R&R…Thanks! (Really, please review/begs/)**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Transformation. Metamorphosis. Change. Growth.

That's what a butterfly is.

I guess it could apply to me. I know it's applied to many other people. After all, everyone changes, don't they? But have I really changed as much as everyone thinks?

It's true that I act different, but isn't that all it really is, just an act? Do I really **feel** any different? Do I really **think** any different? I'm still the same as I was all those years ago; I just got better at masking it. I just learnt what was right and what was wrong. But that doesn't mean I agree with it.

I know teamwork is important, I learnt that. I know that comrades come before the mission, I learnt that too. But I don't agree with it. I still feel like I did when I was a kid, I still feel like the mission should be the most important thing. Is that just lingering in my mind because of what happened to my father?

Absolutely.

I don't want to end up like my father, I don't want to die disgraced and rejected and… alone. I don't want to be alone, no matter how much I act like I do I really don't. No one wants to be alone.

There isn't a single person in this world who wants to feel useless, alone, and like they have no meaning in their life. Everyone wants to be needed by someone, no matter who that someone is.

I praise teamwork, and I know that's important, and I praise protecting our comrades, but I don't believe that's important. Our comrades aren't our responsibility; everyone has to look after themselves. I don't like feeling that I have to protect everyone and that if someone dies it's my fault. It's not my fault, it's no one's fault but that persons own.

Yet I still keep on preaching that we have to look after each other. I keep on lying to myself and everyone else.

Butterflies can change, that's what they're supposed to do, and that's what they're meant to do. Humans aren't meant to change, we're meant to live how we're raised. Our personality, our thoughts, our very being is decided when we're kids.

I learnt that protecting our comrades only kills us in the end. And no matter how long I lie to myself and how long I pretend and act like that's not what I learnt; I will never forget that lesson. I will never be able to preach about protecting our comrades and truly believe my own words.

But everyone else believes me; I guess I'm better at acting then I ever thought I was. But lying to everyone is easier when you're lying to yourself at the same time.

I don't know why I lie about this, I don't know why I feel I have to act like I've changed. I don't know why because I know no matter what I do; I'll still end up dieing alone.

Butterflies.

I wish I could be like a butterfly, I wish I could've changed.

I've wish for a lot of things; none of them have come true.


	13. Closed Eyes

**Closed Eyes **

****

**_Genre: _**_General _

**_Rating: _**_K _

**_Disclaimer: _**_Me not own, please don't sue. _

**_Author's Notes: _**_Um…enjoy? Sorry it's so short. It just sort of came to me, yah? _ **Please R&R…Thanks! ** **Remember…I take requests. **

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I close my eyes.

How am I to celebrate the day I was given life when my soul longs to rest in the water below?

I lean back against the steel-blue structure and am immediately numbed by the sheer cold of it. I am thankful.

I know there are people walking, laughing, talking, joking, back and forth behind me, but I hear nothing. Sweet silence. Dead silence.

I waste no time as I spread my arms and let myself fall into nothingness. The fall is as a feather being dropped. The landing is as falling into a pillow. The icy, cold water soothes as it slows my heart. Finally. I smile as my body succumbs to its death.

I open my eyes to smiles and laughter. Balloons and streamers. Cupcakes and ice cream. Presents and cards filled with love.

All I want is to close my eyes again.


	14. So Empty Those Eyes

**So Empty Those Eyes**

_**Genre: **General_

_**Rating: **K_

_**Disclaimer: **Me not own, please don't sue. _

_**Author's Notes: **Don't really know where this story came from, it just sort of…happened. It's kind of odd really and doesn't really fit into canon all that well but meh, to quote Todd Bertuzzi, "It is what it is."_

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

**Remember…I take requests.**

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Yesterday, I woke up, silently fuming, and kissed the love of my life. I told him I was going to the mall, half-hoping he would offer to come with me. He didn't. So, I went and did my hair, applied my makeup, and dolled up a little. It was six o'clock by the time I got there. I downed down some sugar-free detoxify energy drink and took some diet pills. I had my purse slung over my shoulder, a cell phone in my hand, and I was clad completely in black garment. Black skirt, black plunging tank top, and black tunic-length coat that flares out at the waist. My long, waist-length hair was done perfectly. I felt so empty. So alone. I missed my best friend, who died last year, seeing as I'm used to shopping at the mall with her. I missed having him besides me. I missed smiling and feeling carefree. I missed not being sick. I missed not having bills to worry about. I missed not worrying about anything. I didn't really buy anything… it was basically a "fuck you" trip. However, what was supposed to be a "fuck you" wasn't clear to me, except it made me feel even more alone than ever. Not even the fact I was being hit on by adorable vendors made me feel better.

When I got back home, I curled up in a chair, parting myself from him and his friend, that damn Kakashi, and read. I think he was confused. I don't really think he understood how much he had hurt me, or how much I look into things people say, especially people I love. I'm so analytic. Most of the time, I end up hurting myself, pretty much. I guess. People say I'm sweet, caring, and I go out of my way to make sure everyone is happy, and everyone has what they need. They are right. But you also don't want to piss me off. You just don't. There's no ifs or buts. That's my downfall, I guess.

After his friend left, I set down my book and asked him if he had enough space yet. He looked confused and said that wasn't what he wanted. Confused. Exhausted. And at last, realizing that I hadn't been rational, I ended the discussion with a kiss and smile, and snuggled with him as we watched television.

But oh, I still feel so empty and hurt.

I feel like I have no one to turn to. I feel like nothing's right in my life except for him. I can't get along with my parents, how could I now that they have both died? Most of my friends have moved away. I flunked my Jounin exam because I was too sick to make it through the final test, I probably still am. Between my migraines, overdosing on medications twice and landing in the hospital, and my sleep disorder, I haven't been able to focus on my training or my missions. Bills are piling up. I'm still struggling with this damn eating disorder. People tell me I'm gorgeous, and I have been told to go into modeling many times. But whenever I look in the mirror, I'm okay with my face, but I still see that chubby girl I once was, as a consequence of some medications I was given years ago. I still hate what I see, and I cannot see what other people see. Either they are lying to me, or I'm more messed up than I realize.

But oh, I feel so empty.

At least it's that calm, accepting emptiness.

I only wish that he would talk to me, care for me, like he cares for that friend of his. That damn Kakashi, that genius shinobi that has everything going for him but no way to see it. It took a long time for me to understand why I'm so bitter towards him. I used to think it was because he takes the precious time I have with **my** Asuma away from me but now I don't think that's the reason. Now I think I've realized the true reason why I'm so bitter towards Kakashi…because every time I look into that one eye of his I see the same emptiness, the same hidden pain, the same struggle to make it through the day, that I see in my own eyes whenever I look in a mirror. The only difference is that my eyes don't reflect the guilt of his, don't share the same desperation to change every single part of myself and my past that his hold.

But oh, both our eyes reflect the emptiness we feel.

At least mine still hold hope; at least I might still be able to change. I'm pretty sure he can't, I'm pretty sure he's condemned to this empty life we share.

Now that I've realized this I can almost understand why Asuma spends more time with Kakashi then with me. Kakashi might not live through tomorrow, I will. Kakashi has given up, I haven't.

And when Kakashi's finally gone I will stand here, still as a stone and strong as I can be, and take away as much of the pain as I can from my precious Asuma. Then, and only then, will we finally be able to truly be together. Then, and only then, will my emptiness truly fade.

Then, and only then, will my eyes no longer reflect Kakashi's.


	15. En Dessous

**En Dessous**

_**Summary: **It was not the fact that Kakashi was blinking that alarmed Asuma. It was the matter in which he was blinking._

_**Genre: **Angst/Drama (I think?)  
_

_**Rating: **K_

_**Author Notes: **Who's excited for the fillers to end? I know I am! Feb. 15th people! I'm SO EXCITED!_

_**Disclaimer: **Me not own._

_**Please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors.  
**_

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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Kakashi blinked. To the average person it would be an action not otherwise noticed for blinking, in itself, is not a strange pastime for one to partake in. But to the ones that have found themselves within the protective barrier that Hatake Kakashi has built up over the years they have learned to distinguish small, otherwise unnoticed, actions as ones of particularly strong importance.

It was not the fact that Kakashi was blinking that alarmed Asuma. It was the matter in which he was blinking.

It was also what he was blinking at – a half-drained glass of sake that had probably been refilled many times over by now – that alarmed Asuma.

So Asuma sat down in the seat opposite Kakashi, knowing he couldn't leave his friend alone right now, and lit a cigarette. He immediately noticed the lack of protest on Kakashi's part for the man almost always asks him to not smoke.

The Hokage's son watched his friend in quiet concern. Noticing the rapid speed in which he was blinking, the lack of his infamous orange book, the fact his hitaiate has seemed to have disappeared – yet again – and how he never even noticed Asuma's presence.

"Kakashi?" Asuma finally dared to ask. He figured the fact that his friend had not even bothered to change out of his blood-stained clothes meant he seriously needed someone to talk too – or at least make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.

"She almost died," he mutters as he spins his glass and watches the sake within twirl around with half-lidded eyes. "And she won't blame me – of course."

"Of course," Asuma replies, unsure of what to make of this startling revelation. Very few people almost die when they're under the leadership of Hatake Kakashi.

"I had to perform a medical ninjutsu – the only one I know – to save her life," the silver-haired shinobi continues, "And you know how incompetent I am with medical ninjutsus."

"Hmm," Sarutobi's son responds as he quietly takes the glass from his friend's now shaking hands.

"And she's suppose to be the medic-nin."

Asuma watches as Kakashi twists his hands together in a frantic, nervous action meant to distract himself from his emotional torment. The Jounin allows his brown eyes to be drawn upward to once again notice the fast pace at which his friend is blinking.

He's learnt over the years that when Kakashi is blinking this fast it almost always means that he's desperately trying to stop the tears that he can't let escape. After all, he's Hatake Kakashi – he's not suppose to cry. He has an image to keep up, no matter what.

"It was my mistake," Kakashi mutters, more to himself then to the one sitting opposite him.

"Mistake?" the friend questions. Unable to believe that Kakashi would make a mistake that would lead to the almost death of one under his care.

"A miscalculation from the scout," the red and black-eyed Jounin clarifies. "But my mistake for trusting a rookie scout."

Asuma nods even though he knows Kakashi probably can't see him through his downcast, drunken-hazed eyesight.

"She'll probably put the blame on herself when she wakes up." His hands stop their frantic twisting and return to lying listless on the table.

"Is that so?" Asuma replies as he takes a sniff of the drink he took from his friend earlier. He notices the smell and determines that Kakashi has been drinking some very strong sake this night.

"I don't know why Tsunade keeps putting me on these team missions – I'm a far better soloist." Kakashi rubs his tired and sore Sharingan with his left hand and then continues, "Less pressure in solo missions. No one else's life to worry about."

"She's going to live Kakashi – this isn't the end of the world," Asuma states as he motions for the waitress to bring over the bill.

"I know," Kakashi's hands return to their frantic twisting, "The thing is – she almost died to save me."

"If you want to spend the next few days wallowing in self-pity I won't stop you."

"I don't." The Jounin lifts his head so his mismatched eyes meet his friends brown ones, "Just tonight."


End file.
